in England.

But before the honey-moon was well over, the faithless friend and
subject realized that he had a difficult and dangerous part to play. He
did not dare let Edgar see his wife, for fear of the instant detection
of his artifice, and he employed every pretence to keep her in the
country. His duties at the court brought him frequently to London, but
with the skill at excuses he had formerly shown he contrived to satisfy
for the time the queries of the king and the importunities of his wife,
who had a natural desire to visit the capital and to shine at the king's
court.

Athelwold was sailing between Scylla and Charybdis. He could scarcely
escape being wrecked on the rocks of his own falsehood. The enemies who
always surround a royal favorite were not long in surmising the truth,
and lost no time in acquainting Edgar with their suspicions.
Confirmation was not wanting. There were those in London who had seen
Elfrida. The king's eyes were opened to the treacherous artifice of
which he had been made the victim.

Edgar was deeply incensed, but artfully concealed his anger. Reflection,
too, told him that these men were Athelwold's enemies, and that the man
he had loved and trusted ought not to be condemned on the insinuations
of his foes. He would satisfy himself if his favorite had played the
traitor, and if so would visit him with the punishment he deserved.

"Athelwold," said Edgar, in easy tones, "I am surprised you do not bring
your wife to court. Surely the woman, if she is true woman, must crave
to come."